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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379918">knights who break hearts (and hearts who break knights)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessTheDreamer/pseuds/TessTheDreamer'>TessTheDreamer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Carry On Through The Ages, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Knight Simon Snow, M/M, Malcolm Grimm is an Asshole, Pining, Prince Baz Pitch, Slow Burn, not historically accurate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:27:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,983</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessTheDreamer/pseuds/TessTheDreamer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"A hero who wields the Sword of Mages will come before the darkest ages. A spell will threaten all the land, but will be defeated by the hero's hand.<br/>I don't take much stock in heroes anymore."</p><p>In which: There is a prophecy, Simon Snow is the hero, Baz Pitch is a prince, and things kind of go from there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Penelope Bunce &amp; Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Carry On Through The Ages 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was written for Carry On Through The Ages, a collection all about the Carry On characters throughout history. Check out all the other great fics in this collection!<br/>The title is from a beautiful book called The Starless Sea. It's amazing, and I'd highly recommend it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>I had never seen so many people before. </p><p>They were everywhere, on the streets and hanging out of windows and on horses. They walked and talked and laughed, wearing all sorts of clothes and saying all sorts of things. Everything was so close together, packed in tight. It was honestly a little overwhelming. I had heard the city of Watford was chaotic, but I could never have imagined this. </p><p>It was a little awful. It was a little wonderful. </p><p>I stood in the middle of the street, in a dusty tunic and pants, probably looking every inch of the country boy I am. I hoped they couldn’t tell. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the city people, so they probably wouldn’t know what to do with me. Would they be able to tell I had no idea what I was doing, like everyone always had?</p><p>I still remembered what the Mage had told me when I set off for the city. “Go to the palace and tell them who you are. Show them your sword. The King will know what to do.” I could see the palace in the distance, huge and pretty, but I wasn’t exactly sure how I would get in. Weren’t palaces supposed to have guards, or was that just how it was in the books?</p><p>Still, I had to believe him. I wasn’t sure what I would do if the King didn’t. Go home? The Mage might not let me in the door, and I had ridden and walked for days to get here. I wasn’t going to give up just because Watford was a little scary. </p><p>I set off down the street, wishing I had my horse. I had had Michah for most of the trip, but two days ago I was ambushed by highwaymen. I had gotten away, but my horse hadn’t. I hoped they were taking good care of him. Someone familiar would’ve been nice, in a city full of unfamiliarity. </p><p>I stared at the tall buildings, the scuffed cobblestones, the people on every side of me. Yup, definitely unfamiliar. </p><p>Still, I looked at the smiles on people’s faces, the way the sun shone off the roof tiles, the noise in the background. I liked it here, even though it was so different from where I had grown up. Maybe that was why I liked it. </p><p>I set off to the palace with a skip in my step and a smile on my face. </p><p>One hour later, I was not smiling. The streets of Watford were not straightforward, and I had been lost for the past half hour. Maybe longer. I could still see the palace, shining and huge, in the distance, but I had no idea how to get there. I had tried to buy a map and some food, but someone had stolen the few coins I had in my pocket. </p><p>So I was broke and lost in an unknown city. Fun. </p><p>I sighed. I knew that this would happen. I didn’t know what the Mage was thinking, leaving me unsupervised. Maybe I wasn’t the hero of the prophecy. Heroes were supposed to be competent, and I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time. </p><p>Still, I had to stick it out. The Mage gave me a job to do, something he had trained me for years for. I wasn’t going to turn tail and quit. </p><p>I stuck my hands into my pockets and turned another corner, looking around. There were a lot more people on this road, which was wider. Weird. Maybe something was happening. Maybe it was something bad. </p><p>I hated that I was hoping for that, but at least it would give me something to do. Something that I could do. </p><p>“Hey, what’s going on?” I asked a woman in a white dress. </p><p>“Oh, it’s the prince,” she said breathlessly. “He just got back from visiting his aunt Fiona in the west. Oh, he’s so handsome!”</p><p>I peered over her head. Sure enough, a carriage was making its way down the road, with a bunch of unnecessary decorations on it. On the side was a drawing of a snake. I caught a flash of black hair and pale skin from inside, but that was it. </p><p>I turned back to the woman “Is he headed to the palace?” </p><p>She nodded. I thanked her, grinning, and started to follow the carriage. Finally, a plan. </p><p>It was hard navigating the crowds of people that wanted to see the prince, mostly swooning young women (and some men). I still didn’t get a good look at him, I saw his hand a few times, but nothing else. I wondered what kind of person a prince would be, growing up with all that wealth. </p><p>Probably a git. </p><p>The people of Watford didn’t seem to think so. </p><p>I followed the carriage for blocks, getting closer and closer to the palace. It got bigger as I got closer, which I thought should be impossible. Why did they make it so big? Not that many people lived there. </p><p><em> Maybe they have really big rooms, </em> I thought. <em> Or do all the servants have rooms too? I hope they do. They work hard, I think.   </em></p><p>My wayward thoughts were interrupted with a scream. A loud, high-pitched, terrified scream. That probably wasn’t good. </p><p>I turned toward the street, where the crowds had suddenly started to run away. That definitely wasn’t good.   </p><p>People in all black clothes and swords were swarming the carriage. The knights that had been guarding the carriage were lying on the streets, and the horses had been cut loose. I could see someone struggling with the criminals, but no one was stopping them. </p><p>I could stop them. </p><p>The thought almost made me grin as I murmured the spell that would bring me my sword, the only one I had been able to master. The Sword of Mages appeared in my hand, golden and gleaming.</p><p>I dove into the street, defeating and disarming one of the criminals effortlessly. Adrenaline ran like fire through my veins, making my movements quicker and stronger. I easily defeated three more criminals before getting to the carriage, where five more people stood. </p><p>I wondered if it was a bad thing that I felt my best when I was fighting. I decided that now was not the time to think about that. </p><p>I slammed the hilt of my sword into one of the criminal’s heads, and he fell like a stone. Three of them attacked me at once, the clang of metal on metal more familiar to me than the back of my own hand. One of them got a lucky shot in, slicing open my left arm. I winced, but kept on fighting until all of them were either knocked out or disarmed and running away. </p><p>I was panting, bloody, and sweaty. I felt like myself again.</p><p>I turned to the last person, who was halfway inside the carriage. He was grabbing something, pulling it along with him. It must have been heavy, because he was struggling so much.  </p><p>I used the flat of my blade to sweep him off of his feet, and his head cracked against the side of the carriage. The man crumpled to the ground. </p><p>And something was falling out of the carriage. </p><p>If I had time to think, I would have realized that it was probably the thing the criminal had been trying to pull out of the carriage, and maybe even figure out that it was the thing the whole group of people had attacked the carriage to steal. But I didn’t have time to think, because I was pretty sure a person was falling out of the carriage. </p><p>I dove forward, dropping my sword, the person falling into my outstretched arms. My knee propped up his back, and for a moment I forgot about the fight, about the dust on my clothes and my sword on the ground, because all I could notice was how fit the person in my arms were, and how his eyes were the prettiest shade of gray. Like storm clouds. </p><p>For a moment we just sat there, in the middle of the road surrounded by unconscious bodies. </p><p>Then the person spoke. </p><p>“Please put me down,” he said. </p><p>“Oh, right,” I said, putting him down on the cobblestones. The person stood up, brushing the dust off of his clothes. </p><p>“Thank you,” the person drawled, not sounding thankful at all. “For saving my life.”</p><p>Before I could sputter out an answer, people were surrounding them again. I grabbed my sword, ready to fight (almost wanting it) until I noticed the armour the people were wearing.</p><p>These were knights. </p><p>“Are you alright, Prince Baz?” one of them asked, approaching the person. </p><p>“I’m fine,” he said stiffly. </p><p>Because the person I had saved was the prince. The prince of Watford. </p><p>“You’re the prince?!” I asked incredulously. </p><p>Prince Baz raised one eyebrow. “Yes?” </p><p>I didn’t know quite what to say, so I murmured the spell that would make my sword disappear to wherever it came from. I had never quite understood that part, but I figured I didn’t have to. It was when the sword was in my hand that mattered.</p><p>As soon as his sword disappeared from my hand, the knights gasped. A couple put their hands to their mouths. Even the prince looked surprised, mouth hanging open.</p><p>“What?” I asked.</p><p>“You-You’re the hero,” the knight that was talking to the prince said. “The hero of the prophecy. The Hero of Watford.”</p><p>Oh. Right. There was that. </p><p>“Oh, y-yeah. That’s me,” I said. I wasn’t sure what to do. The knights were looking at me like I was a hero. Which I kind of was. “Uh, can I speak to the King?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz doesn't like the Hero of Watford very much.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>BAZ</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I just wanted to go home. That was all I wanted, and so of course that went wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The actual carriage ride had been pleasant enough. A little bumpy, but I’m not too fussy, so I didn’t mind that much. A little lonely, but I was not about to strike up conversation with the driver or the knights. I had been glad when they got to Watford, glad to be home, even if I already missed my aunt and wasn’t looking forward to having to deal with my father and court politics again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe I hadn’t been all that glad, but it had gotten even worse when that band of badly-dressed fools had attacked the carriage, killed my knights, and nearly abducted me. Luckily, some gorgeous idiot with a sword had saved me. Who was the legendary Hero of Watford.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I needed a nap. Instead, knights were escorting me and the hero to the palace in another carriage to talk to my father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the hero was trying to talk to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re the prince?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” I said. “Prince Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. But everyone calls me Baz. Prince Baz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he said. “I-I’m Simon. Simon Snow. My name’s not as long as yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell,” I drawled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow shut up after that. I smirked, even though I had kind of liked his voice. It was rich and sweet, with a slight country twang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I still remembered what his arms had felt like, strong underneath me as I fell out of the carriage. Snow’s eyes, warm and blue like the summer sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I banished the thought from my mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stared out the window of the carriage, taking in the sights of home. No matter how much I was dreading what would happen when we got to the palace, I was glad I was back in Watford. Back where I belonged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long, awkward silence, the carriage finally arrived at the palace. We passed through the gates, the cobblestone becoming even smoother than it was before, and passed by the gardens. Soon enough, I could see my step-mother waiting at the great doors of our home. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It doesn’t feel much like home,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The carriage finally slowed to a stop, and I stepped out of the carriage. My little sister, Mordelia, immediately threw herself into my arms. I smiled faintly, I hadn’t seen her in a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baz!” she said. “I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you too,” I murmured in her ear. She giggled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Mordelia, get down. That isn’t ladylike,” her mother, Daphne Grimm, chided, pulling her from my arms. “Who is your friend, Baz?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not my friend,” I said. “That’s Simon Snow. He’s the Hero of Watford.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My step-mother’s mouth dropped open, and I took a minute to appreciate how silly she looked. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hero</span>
  </em>
  <span> of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Watford</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Hero of Watford?” Mordelia repeated. “That’s him? The country boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I just said. He wishes to speak to father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, of course,” Daphne said. “Anything for the Hero of Watford.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rolled my eyes. Just because he had been heroic earlier didn’t mean he would be heroic all the time. If he did, that would be very annoying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and my little sister rushed over to speak with him as the knights started to escort us inside the palace, my sister following her. They must be fans. Actually, I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t be a fan of the Hero of Watford. The prophecy was less of a prophecy than a children’s tale that everyone knows.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can still remember my mother telling me the prophecy, when I was a child. “A hero who wields the Sword of Mages will come before the darkest ages. A spell will threaten all the land but will be defeated by the hero’s hand.” I used to love the prophecy. I had it memorized. Unfortunately, I still do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t take much stock in heroes anymore. Especially ones that sputter like they were raised in a barn. Which the Hero of Watford probably was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We finally reached the throne room, and I took a deep breath. Dealing with my father was always bothersome, but I hoped that Snow will help smooth things over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knights threw open the doors, and the four of us strolled into the throne room. I hated the room, but I do have to admit that with it’s long windows and carved arches, it was beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The members of the court whispered at our entrance. I am not a surprising sight, and neither is Daphne or Mordelia, but Snow is. He was wearing a dusty tunic and pants, and there was blood on his arm. He looked like he belonged in the stables instead of the throne room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baz,” my father greeted. He was sitting on the golden throne at the end of the room, back ramrod-straight and hands folded neatly in his lap. He looked like a prat. “Welcome home. How was your trip?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was fine, father,” I replied through gritted teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good. Who is your . . . friend?” he asked, obviously displeased with Snow. The one thing we have in common.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bite back telling the whole court that we aren’t friends, and I told him. “This is Simon Snow. He is the Hero of Watford.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s like the whole court gasped at once. My father’s eyes widened, and he actually stood up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” he asked. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was about to open my mouth when the head of the guard stepped forward, clearing his throat. Thank god for that. While a part of me enjoys court politics, I didn’t want to recount my tale of being almost kidnapped for the entire court. I especially didn’t want to talk about the part where I fell into the Hero of Watford’s arms. His nice, strong arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Majesty, the prince’s carriage was ambushed by some criminals in black,” the head of the guard said. “We believe they are part of a group called The Numpties. After they killed the knights, Simon Snow defeated all of the Numpties and saved Prince Baz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The court continued to whisper as the King took this information in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” he said. “Thank you, Sir Snow, for saving my son. But, I have to ask, how do we know you’re the Hero of Watford?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Right, that,” Snow said, his country accent coming through. He murmured something under his breath, and a sword appeared in his hand. It shone gold in the light as he twirled it in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Sword of Mages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had already seen it, of course, when he made it disappear after he caught me. But this was different. With him standing in the sunlight from the windows, sword raised and face serious, he looked like a hero out of the stories. Out of the stories about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, I am breathless, and all I can do is stare at Simon Snow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment ends far quicker then I would have liked, but I tear my eyes away from him and back to my father. He looks stunned, stunned but happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be honest, I’m not quite sure what to do,” he said. I repressed the urge to scoff. My father always knew what he was doing. “I never thought I would be the king to meet the Hero of Watford. However, we do have an open knight position, which you are free to take.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Snow said, a little awkwardly. “I would be honored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My father shakes his head. “No, I am the one who is honored. Now, I have to request something from you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow nodded eagerly, like a dog. “Oh, of-of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While you train as a knight, can you also take a position as a part-time bodyguard for my son, Prince Baz?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how hard I try to stay unaffected, my mouth drops open. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you are truly the Hero of Watford, that means that a great evil will come to this city soon,” my father continued, ignoring the shock on my face. “My son already has a bodyguard, so it won’t interfere with your training, but I would like some extra protection for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But father-” I try to say, but Snow interrupts me. Figures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ll do it,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, I actually rolled my eyes. I would be fine. I had been fine for years without him, with my actual bodyguard, and I didn’t need the extra protection of the so-called hero. I already knew he would try and make conversation with me, like he did in the carriage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing stopping me from actually speaking up again was the look Daphne was shooting me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wondered if there were any upsides to this situation. The only one I could think of was that Mordelia was probably very happy. Daphne was too, but that wasn’t an upside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Penelope can show you around,” my father said. A knight, one I hadn’t met before, stepped forward. She had brown skin and curly hair, with a serious face. At least she wasn’t swooning, like a few members of the court. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow nodded, and followed her out of the throne room like a lost puppy. The court stared at him as he left, still gossiping. The news of the Hero of Watford would be all over the city by tomorrow morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My father smiled at me, and I smiled back. It probably looks more like a grimace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Son,” he said. “Come here and join me. I’m so glad you’re back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sighed and strolled up to my seat beside him. The throne was hard and cold, and the carvings on the armrests dug into my wrists as I stared out into the court. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was home. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Biden won the election!! America won't have to have a fascist president anymore!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Simon makes a friend, and learns more about the royal family.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>
  <span>This entire day had been very strange. It wasn’t like I was expecting anything normal to happen, but I didn’t expect my day to be like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, I got to Watford. Then, I saved the prince, who seems to hate me for some reason, from Numpties? I still wasn’t quite sure what Numpties were, the criminals had looked human to me. Then, they’d taken me to the very fancy palace, where I had to pull out my sword in front of a bunch of people. I didn’t understand who they were either, or why they were in the throne room. Wasn’t that place only for the king? And then he had made me a knight. That was probably the best place to put me, since I could sword fight and all, but I was still nervous about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now another knight was leading me through the halls of the palace, which I was definitely going to get lost in later, to show me where things were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So the royal apartments are up those stairs,” the knight said, pointing. Her name was Penelope, I think. She had rich brown skin, and was about a head shorter than me, but was a little intimidating anyway. “You’ll probably have to go up there a lot, since you’ll be Prince Baz’s bodyguard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess,” I said. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t let it get to you. He doesn’t like anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” I asked, as she led me downstairs. “Aren’t princes supposed to love everyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If they are, he didn’t get the memo,” she said. “These are the servants quarters. You probably won’t need to spend time down here, but I thought it would be good to show you anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran a hand through her thick curls, a purple ring gleaming on her finger. “I’m Penelope, by the way. You can call me Penny if you want. Most people do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t really know how to respond to that. She seemed nice though, so I figured I should introduce myself. “I’m Simon Snow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. The Hero of Watford.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Sounds a little fancy to me, but yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Penny laughed, pushing open two giant doors. The sunlight hit my face, and I smiled. She had led us to the gardens, which I had gotten a glimpse of when I got here. It was beautiful, and the only familiar place here. I could recognize some of the plants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t seem fancy,” she said. “Or pretentious.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. Or, or I don’t try to be.” Not like the prince. He was pretentious, and a git just like I had thought. A pretty git, but still a git. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good. Everyone should try not to be pretentious. The world would be a lot better like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This Penny girl was really smart, and nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These are the knights barracks,” Penny said, gesturing at a building right next to the walls around the palace. It was tall and dark, with tall windows. Some people were training in front of the building, sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat. Simon grinned. He was going to like it here. “The building behind it is where a former knight, Ebb, lives. I think she's a shepard now. The barracks is where we live, and train. Although I suspect you’re already trained?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. By The Mage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s the Mage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, just this . . . guy. I can’t really describe him, but he’s a mage and he trained me. He’s a genius.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were trained by a mage?” Penny asked, going starry-eyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t everyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t even know any mages. What was it like?” She sounded like she actually wanted to know, like she was interested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What had it been like? It was hard to describe my time with The Mage, like it was hard to describe him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was hard,” I said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it obviously paid off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not that good.” The Mage had always said that, that I needed to improve, even to the day before he sent me to Watford. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Penny rolled her eyes. “Yes, you are. You defeated eight people single-handedly. That’s good, Simon. Can I call you Simon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded, and she beamed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of us walked into the knights’ barracks. The first floor was a lounge-like area, with weapons hanging up instead of paintings. She led me up the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be staying on the third floor,” Penny explained. “I think you’ll be rooming next to me, since that’s the only empty room in the whole building.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Did someone leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “Trixie. God, she was annoying. Always talking, even at night. Was horrible with a sword too. The only reason she was here was because her parents sent her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Penny opened the door. The room was small and modest, with a bed and a drawer and a desk and chair. It was similar to my room back at The Mage’s house, which was a little nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you bring any belongings?” she asked curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook my head. “No. Well, I did, but they were on my horse, and we got attacked on the way here. So I only have my sword.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Sword of Mages?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” It was my most prized possessions. It just felt right in my hand, and I was at my best when it was cutting through the air.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I see it? I’ve always wanted to hold the Sword of Mages.” Her voice went a little higher at the end, almost a squeal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O-Okay,” I said, shrugging. The Mage never told me that I couldn’t let other people hold it. And Penny was my friend, I think, or she was going to be. You were supposed to do nice things for your friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I summoned the sword, and it appeared in my hand like usual. She gasped, looking delighted. I didn’t really get why everyone was so impressed. I loved my sword, but even I had to admit, it was a sword. Knights probably saw a lot of swords. It was their job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. I handed it over to her. Penny handled it like it was precious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lunged with it, laughing. “This is quality forging, and quite balanced. I read a book about the making of swords, you know, and it mentioned the Sword of Mages. It said it was one of the greatest swords ever made, along with Excalibur and Cortana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does work well,” I said. “Can I ask you something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” She twirled the blade in her hand, still grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really know about the royal family.” I looked down at my hands, picking a fleck of dried blood off my thumb. “Can you tell me about them?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Penny nodded, sitting down on the chair. She was still holding my sword. “Oh, right, you wouldn’t know much about them. Us knights don’t interact with them much, besides some small talk, but you’ll have to interact with the prince a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She listed them off on her fingers. “So there’s the king, King Malcolm Grimm. He’s a little stuck-up, and a little cold, but he’s a good ruler for the most part. Then there’s the queen, Queen Daphne Grimm. She’s his second wife, the first one died years ago on an attack on the palace. I’ve heard from the maids that she’s a little weak and snobby, but she’s nice enough. Princess Mordelia is their daughter, she’s really sweet. Apparently, she really likes black. You already know Prince Baz Pitch, or Grimm-Pitch I guess. He’s the king’s son with his first wife. He hates everyone, except for these boys named Dev and Niall. They’re from court, you probably won’t meet them. Did you really save the prince’s life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I did, but he hadn’t been very grateful. “Yeah. I caught him when he fell out of the carriage. He wasn’t nice about it. Aren’t princes supposed to be nice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only in the books,” she sighed. “Not our prince. I’m not jealous of your position.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you do?” I asked. “In the palace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guard the throne room,” Penny said proudly. “Sometimes I guard the princess’ door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was probably a good thing, she said it like it was a good thing. I smiled at her. “That’s great!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” She handed me back my sword, and I said the spell that would send it back to where it came from. All of a sudden, Penny frowned at me, and my heart skipped a beat. Did I do something wrong? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you bleeding?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Right, that. I glanced at my arm. Sure enough, it was still bleeding. “I guess. I got cut in the fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you say anything?” She jumped up, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of my room. “We have our own infirmary here. We should bandage it up, it could get infected if we don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” I let myself get pulled along anyway, Penny rambling on about how to take care of wounds as we went. I smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I did like it here. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>God I can't wait for next week when I don't have school.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's Simon's first day on the job, and Baz is not happy about it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is mostly just filler.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>BAZ</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Aunt Fiona threw the dress out of the window and told the servants she could smell the poison in it,” I told Mordelia. “They checked it and guess what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was poisoned?” she said, eyes wide and excited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded. “They checked, and it was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” she breathed. “Aunt Fiona is so cool. I want to be just like her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t blame her. Fiona was one of my favorite relatives too, maybe second to Mordelia. Maybe. Probably.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My little sister had told me at breakfast that she had wanted to spend time with me before her lessons, and I didn’t have the heart to refuse her. That wouldn’t be good in the future, where she would definitely use the skill for evil, but for now it was okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now come on,” I said, standing up and holding out my hand to her. “You have your history lesson soon, and you don’t want to be late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mordelia sighed and grabbed my hand. “History is boring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but you’re a princess. It’s your duty to know the history of your kingdom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When we walked out of my room, Snow was standing at the door. That was enough to sour my mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a few days since his arrival in the city, and I hadn’t seen him since. I was fine with that fact. Totally fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, I was standing in front of Snow, trying to ignore how handsome he looked in armour. His hair was tousled, and the Sword of Mages hung from his belt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you have training to do?” I asked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already trained,” he said. “And I’m already trained. By The Mage. And this is my job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annoyingly, he had a point. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Mordelia said, smiling wide. They had already met, but she was still starstruck. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Snow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s g-good to see you too, Princess,” Snow stuttered. “And just call me Simon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My little sister beamed. At least he wasn’t mean to her. If he was, I didn’t care if he was a legendary hero, I would throw him out a window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mordelia, lessons,” I reminded her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. Goodbye, Simon!” she yelled as she ran down the hall, her dress swinging. I allowed myself to smile once, before turning around and setting off for the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow followed. I already didn’t like this new arrangement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sighed, rubbing my temples as I walked. “To the library.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you have so many questions?” I shot back. A prince shouldn’t involve himself in such matters, I knew that. I shouldn’t be rude to anyone, I should be kind to my people, Daphne had told me that a million times. But there was something about Snow. Something infuriating, that made my heart pound faster and my face flush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to follow you around all day, I want to know what you’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I missed my old bodyguard. He never pried. “It’s none of your business. You wouldn’t understand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Because I’m not royalty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. A knight wouldn’t understand a prince’s duties,” I sneered. “You should just stick to following me around like a dog. It’s your job anyway.” The words almost made me wince, but I kept my head high. If Snow had to be my bodyguard, he would learn to be quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow’s face went bright red, and his eyes narrowed. Anger somehow looked right and wrong on him, right for the sword at his side and the emblem on his armor, but wrong for the softness of his cheeks and the sweetness of his eyes. “How are you so insufferable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you so annoying?” I turned on my heel, locking my eyes on the end of the hall and walking toward it. I needed to stop talking to Snow. A prince wasn’t supposed to be petty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh!” I heard Snow yell, but he followed me anyway. He wasn’t so mad that he would abandon his post. That was good, I guess. Father would be happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wasn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow stomped after me all the way to the library, where I grabbed a book on military strategy. My tutors wanted me to study the topic, they thought I would need it for when I became king. I thought that was foolish. My kingdom hadn’t gone to war in over half a century, and I wasn’t planning on pissing off other rulers once I sat on the throne. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we going to war soon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I repressed the urge to bash my head into the table. “No, Snow, we’re not. Military strategy is a skill that kings need to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s stupid,” he said. “Why would you need to know military strategy if we’re not going to war?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I secretly agreed with him, but I wasn’t going to tell Snow that. “Just in case. I told you you wouldn’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would understand if it wasn’t stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re the stupid one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I have common sense!” he yelled, the words ringing through the silent library. He cringed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We stayed silent after that, him seething and me reading. I might have been seething a little bit too, but I had stuff to do. I didn’t have time to be mad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After I finished the book, I left the library and headed down to the stables. Snow followed, silent this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I liked it and I didn’t. Snow didn’t seem like the silent type. It just felt wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, we stepped outside, into the sunlight. That’s when he broke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doing now?” he asked. He still sounded pissed, and his head was held just a fraction higher than normal, like he was bracing himself. He knew he was going to be insulted. Snow caught on quick.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Horseback riding practice,” I said. “Something a knight would actually know. And then violin lessons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow relaxed a little bit, his shoulders a little less stiff, and I hated that it made me feel good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I walked into the tack room, grabbing my gear off the wall before walking into one of the changing rooms. It was green and thick, to protect me from injury if I got bucked off (which I wouldn’t). Usually, this would be in my room, but after a month at Fiona’s the maids had moved it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow was waiting when I walked out, his eyes following me as I saddle my horse, Vamp. He was probably glaring at me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My instructor hadn’t gotten here yet, so I did a few laps around the stables, grinning. There were a lot of things I hadn’t missed about home, but Vamp wasn’t one of them. I had missed riding on her back, the wind in my hair and the world under her hooves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow was still staring at me when I stopped, when the instructor got there, when me and Vamp started the actual tricks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tried to hate it.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Y'all I just finished reading this book called Only Mostly Devastated it's a gay retelling of Grease and it's so cute.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Simon has a conversation with Penny, and then one with Baz. One of those goes well.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Prince Baz was just such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>prick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t understand how someone could be that rude. Maybe it was because he grew up rich and royal, maybe it was because he hated me for some stupid reason, maybe it was because that was just his personality, but still. He was an asshole, and he didn’t seem guilty about it. He never did, which was what made me so mad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, he was in some kind of history lesson, his last of the day. After days of asking, he had finally given me his schedule today, so I finally knew what to expect for my job. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides the schedule, guarding Baz today hadn’t been fun. He had insulted my intelligence twice, made fun of me being from the country, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t fallen down the stairs by accident. He pushed me. I know he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did I even do wrong? I saved his goddamn life, why was he being so mean to me? And everyone else, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he always looked so put together, even when he was being so rude and pushing me down the stairs. It was infuriating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Other than Baz, my situation at the castle was actually pretty good. Guarding him was easy when he wasn’t being rude, and when he was doing something like lessons or playing with his sister, it was almost boring. Princess Mordelia was the only reason I didn’t think of him as a heartless monster, and how he looked when he was playing his fiddle. He was soft with her, and there was something about his expression when he was playing. It was almost cute.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Training was fun, it was challenging fighting with other people that weren’t the Mage. I had picked up some new tricks, mostly from Penny, who I had gotten a lot closer with. I was pretty sure she was my best friend, we spent a lot of time together, from training to meals to talking in each others’ rooms. I really liked having a best friend. I hadn’t hung around people my age since before the Mage found me, which had been years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was why once one of Baz’s other bodyguards (because that arsehole had multiple, and he was only rude to me) replaced me at the end of the day, I headed straight for Penny’s room in the knights’ barracks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I knocked on the door, hoping she was still awake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in!” she called, and I opened the door and went to sit down. She was sitting on her bed in a nightgown, and she made a sympathetic face. “The prince again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get why you call him that,” I said. “Just call him Baz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that would be incorrect! And I might get in trouble. Treason is a serious crime, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but the prat doesn’t deserve it. He’s insulted everything about me, and I’m pretty sure he pushed me down the stairs!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Penny raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure? What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was standing on the edge of the stairwell and I felt something push against my back,” I explained. “Then I fell down the stairs. Only Baz was there, and he was laughing afterward. I was lucky I was wearing armour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard he was kind of rude, but not that rude,” Penny said. “He doesn’t seem like the type to be petty enough to push someone down the stairs. Did you say something offensive to him by accident?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook my head. “Only when he started the argument. I don’t understand why he hates me. All I did was save his life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm. Weird. Maybe he just has it out for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why?” I didn’t know why he made me so mad. He just . . . </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe because he was one of the first people I hated before, truly hated. I hated the bullies in the orphanage, but I could understand why they did what they did. They were poor orphans. Everyone did what they needed to do to survive. It didn’t make it right, but it was a reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz didn’t seem to have a reason. He was a prince, he was rich, he had a family. He had lived a life of luxury. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he did have a dead mother. Maybe that was it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that still didn’t explain why Baz hated me as much as he did. I didn’t have a mother either. He didn’t have anything to be jealous of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t know that. Maybe I should tell him. Yes, that was what I would do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Penny said. “Maybe he expected to get all the attention, after his stay with the late Queen Natasha’s sister. Did I tell you about her?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook my head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like her a lot. She advocates for the poor, and she’s fierce. Oh, and she’s very smart. I think she’s technically a princess, because she’s the King’s sister-in-law. The maids say she’s one of the only people Baz likes.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the list with Dev and Niall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “I don’t think Fiona Pitch would like being in the same category as Dev and Niall.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. So, how was your day?” I liked to think that I had gotten less awkward the longer I stayed here, but it was a slow process. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Penny went on about the different issues that came up in court, like raising taxes (bad) and building another hospital (good). She had opinions on everything, especially politics. It was interesting. I had never met anyone like her, and I liked listening to her talk. I always learned something when I did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she explained why the new tariffs on rice were an unfair law, I planned what I would say to Baz tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stood outside the prince’s door as he got ready for his lessons. Baz always wore the strangest outfits to them, and I didn’t understand why. He was just learning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, when he walked out of his room, ignoring me completely, I couldn’t help but stare. His trousers highlighted his stupidly long legs, and the bandit green of his tunic clashed against his weirdly shiny hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, I despised him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz strode down the hall, not even giving me a glance. I had to follow him anyway, jogging to catch up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why couldn’t they have just made me a knight, not an arrogant prince’s bodyguard?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted you to know,” I said, mentally preparing for a rude response. “You have nothing to be jealous of.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That actually made him stop in his tracks, and so did I. He had the most incredulous expression on his face, like he hadn’t expected to be told that phrase ever in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jealous?” he scoffed. “Why? Because I don’t exactly want to be a hero of a prophecy. So tell me, Snow, what do I have to be jealous of? Your scruffy appearance, your lack of money, or the fact that you have to follow me around for a living? None of that sounds very appealing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could feel my face heating up. “I didn’t mean any of those things, you prick.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what did you mean? Your sword? Your cutesy relationship with that know it all knight girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That know it all knight girl’s name is Penelope,” I snapped. This already wasn’t going well. “And we’re not together. I meant that I don’t have a mother either.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made every emotion drop off of his face for one precious moment, before they were all replaced by one. Cold rage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This had not been a good idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How dare you mention my mother? What, do you actually think I care about your family?” he sneered. “Do you think I’m jealous of everyone in this palace that has a mother? Because that’s a lot of people, and I’m a prince. I’m not that petty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re petty enough to push me down the stairs and make comments on my appearance and my social status,” I said. “So who knows, really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz didn’t dignify that with a response, just sniffing haughtily and walking forward again, his hair and hips swaying. I resisted the urge to shout and followed them, forcing myself to keep my mouth shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he wasn’t jealous. There was nothing deeper to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just an arsehole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A</span>
  <span> pretty arsehole, but still. An arsehole. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I promise the plot starts to pick up very soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz and Simon get locked in a library for safety reasons. Whatever could happen?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tw in the end notes!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>BAZ</b>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been almost a month since Snow started working as a knight and my bodyguard, and my life had not gotten any easier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My father wanted me to get more into politics, to prepare for my future as King. I would rather eat my trousers. He and Daphne had also started hinting at me to find a future wife, which was ridiculous. I was seventeen! You didn’t get married at seventeen. That was just weird. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, it wasn’t like I was actually into girls anyway. Not like I would tell Father that anytime soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there was Snow. God, Snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still hated me. We figured out that if neither of us talked when he was working as my bodyguard, we would have much less arguments, so he insulted me much less lately. Still, I could feel his hatred. It rolled off of him like waves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was good. Because I hated him too. He was the hero of the prophecy, which meant that people decided to trust him with their lives for absolutely no reason. There was no proof he could save us, no proof he could save anyone. He was scruffy and dumb and had no knowledge of how things worked around here. He thought I was jealous of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because I didn’t know his mother was dead, which was one of the most foolish things I had ever heard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But him hating me was also bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because my traitor heart beat faster when he was around, sword shining and blue eyes bright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because my hands ached to find his, to intertwine his fingers in mine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because sometimes I couldn’t get the image of him in the throne room, looking every bit the Hero of Watford, out of my head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because the thought of Simon Snow made me breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hated him and everything that he stood for. I was also falling in love with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could never know the last part. Never. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook the thoughts from my head, running a hand through my hair and trying to pay attention to my history tutor. He was talking about some war or another, something useless that would end soon. I still didn’t understand why I couldn’t go to one of those expensive schools for members of high society, like Dev and Niall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, I actually did understand it. My father was trying to protect me, in his own twisted way. I still didn’t like it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I itched to be somewhere else, to be with Aunt Fiona again or to play with my sister. They were the only people not giving me endless problems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glanced over at Snow, who was standing up perfectly straight near a bookshelf. Even though he was looking in my direction, his eyes were somewhere else. That wasn’t good. If he had to be my bodyguard, he should at least be a good one and pay attention.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the doors to the library swung open with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and his eyes snapped up. Mine did too, and I looked to the doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four knights stood in the entryway, surveying the room. When they looked at me and Snow, it looked like they had a collective sigh of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” I asked in my most snobbish prince voice, raising one eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s been an attack,” said one of the knights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where? On the palace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “No, Your Highness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you here?” I knew I shouldn’t be so rude, that they were only there to protect me, but if the attack wasn’t on the palace they shouldn’t be interrupting my lessons. I was the prince, the heir to the throne. I had the right to know what was happening in my kingdom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knight didn’t answer my question, and instead turned to Snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Protect him until we come back,” he said. “And stay here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow nodded, looking adorably confused.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, come with us,” one of the other knights said to my instructor. He nodded, whimpering like an idiot, and followed the knights out of the room. They closed the door, and from the sound I heard, probably barricaded it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So I was stuck here. With Snow. Fantastic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, there were worse places to be stuck in then a library. I flipped open the book my instructor had given me and began to read. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Snow shifting uncomfortably. He looked extremely awkward, and it would have been hilarious if he hadn’t been giving me extreme second hand embarrassment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sighed. “You can sit down, you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flinched, going pink. “I’m supposed to protect you. How am I going to do that sitting down?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can do this thing called standing back up,” I said. “Besides, we don’t even know what’s going on. And I thought you hated me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last few words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I studied my book furiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Snow said, and it hurt to hear, no matter how good the news was. “But I’m still going to protect you. I’m not some monster. And it’s my job.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How noble of you,” I sneered.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t respond to that. Maybe he finally knew how to pick his battles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what do you think is going on?” he asked, after a few more minutes of silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rolled my eyes, not quite sure why I was responding. “Usually, I’d think there was an attack on the palace or my family, but that knight said otherwise. So I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think we’re in danger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, if we were the knights would have evacuated us to a safe house. Why, are you scared?” I sneered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “No, I just want to be prepared for anything. Knowing your enemy is one of the best tools in a fight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though the words were wise, Snow sounded like he was reciting something out of a book, the words falling out of his mouth without any of his usual passion. Maybe it was from his training before he came to Watford. I had heard from castle gossip that he was trained by some wizard, which was interesting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lot of things about him were interesting. I tried not to think about those things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose so, Snow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>About half an hour of reading and silence passed before some knights came to fetch us, leading us into the throne room. The court was gone. My father was pacing, tapping his chin and looking stressed. Daphne sat on her throne, and my sister was nowhere to be seen. That was good. I hated when she was sad, and whatever happened would probably make her sad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father, what happened?” I asked, trying not to sound too annoyed. That would only make things worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to me, eyes sharp. “Good, you’re here. You’ll need to get experience with this sort of thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With what sort of thing?” This time, the annoyance in my voice was as clear as the summer sky. Of course he was doing this, playing games with me. Like I was some kind of political pawn and not his only son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To him, I guess I was both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There has been a murder.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“. . . okay,” I said. “Is it someone we know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My father shook his head. “No, no one we know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why is it important? It’s tragic, sure, but people are murdered all the time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a different case. Bring him in!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone came inside from a nearby door, wearing the uniform of a doctor. He was pulling a cart along with him, and a body laid in the cart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corpse was a man, wearing clothes fancy enough to be a merchant but not fancy enough to be a noble. His eyes were closed, his skin pale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there was a hole in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was bloody and gaping and </span>
  <em>
    <span>messy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I gagged. I slapped my hand over my mouth and looked away from the body, praying that I wouldn’t throw up my breakfast all over the stone floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow looked like how I imagined I looked like, shocked and disgusted and green. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s heart is missing,” my father said. There was a flicker of concern in his eye, but it disappeared as fast as it came. “And it came with this note.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor handed a scroll to me, and I opened it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To the people of the palace,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re next.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tw for blood and gore. I don't think it's that explicit, but it is there. <br/>And the plot finally picks up!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz and his father talk about what happened. Simon is confused. Someone is still dead.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The body. God, the body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Mage had taught me about human autonomy, telling me it was good for my education. Telling me it would teach me where to strike to hurt, strike to kill (I hadn’t had the strength to tell him that I didn’t want to kill). So I knew that the hole in the man’s chest was where his heart was supposed to be. The King had just confirmed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had seen dead bodies before, but nothing like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stared at Baz as he read the message on the scroll left with the body. I still hated him but . . . I dunno. It had been almost a month since I had gotten here, and he seemed like he was getting a little better. He hadn’t insulted me, mostly because we had stopped talking for a couple weeks, and he hadn’t pushed me down the stairs again recently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Baz had been a little nice to me in the library. Or not rude, at least. Maybe he was warming up to me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So I did feel bad for him when I saw his expression when he saw the body. He looked horrified, like he was about to throw up. It was the most bothered I had ever seen him, he had even looked calm when he was getting kidnapped last month. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And his expression now, reading the message. The same horror, but quieter, I guess. Mixed with what might be fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words from earlier echoed in my ear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you scared? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He still looked beautiful though. He always did, no matter what the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it say?” I asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz handed the scroll back to the doctor. “It says that the people of the palace are next.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The queen gasped, looking terrified. Did her husband not tell her? I hoped he did. She was the queen, so she should probably know about threats to the kingdom. Maybe. I still didn’t understand the workings of the court, it was all so subtle and complicated. Why couldn’t they just say what they meant? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who did this, father?” Baz asked. He sounded angry, and a little bit scared. A little helpless. “Who would do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A monster,” the King said, rage barely concealed in his voice. “We looked through some records, and found someone else killed a week ago that also had his heart removed. A servant in a noble household. That body wasn’t left with a note, however, so we made no note of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are they taking their hearts?” the queen asked, sounding faint. The doctor took that as a message, and wheeled the body out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The King shrugged. “I have no idea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could be for a spell. The Mage had taught me a little bit about spells and magic, before he figured out that I didn’t have the knack for it like he did. The only spell I could do was the one that summoned my sword. He had said that human hearts were used in a few spells and curses, the really dark and powerful ones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Mages were rare, so it couldn’t be for that. And the King probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. I was a knight, not an intellectual. I kept my mouth shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we going to do about this?” Baz still sounded a little helpless, which was unsettling. He always sounded so sure of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what would you do?” the King asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will be king someday, Baz. What would you do if you were in my position?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone is dead, father,” Baz said, his voice strained. “I don’t think now is the best time to teach me how to rule.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I still didn’t like the prince, but he had a point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the contrary, I think it’s the best time,” the king answered. “You will need to know what to do in these kinds of situations, and when you are king I might not be around to help you with the decision. So what would you do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was obvious that Baz still didn’t like what he had to do, but he took a deep breath and spoke. “I would increase security, double the guard’s and knight’s duties. Warn everyone in the kingdom about the threat, tell them to be on the lookout.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The king raised an eyebrow, looking a little like Baz at the movement. “The first part’s good, but the second isn’t. We will only warn the people of the palace.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we tell everyone, that will only cause unnecessary panic,” he said. “There will be incorrect reports left and right, made out of fear. If we only tell the people of the palace, the only ones in danger, finding the killer will be much easier.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But the people of the kingdom have a right to know,” Baz replied. This was the first time I had seen him passionate about something that wasn’t hating me, and it made me feel strange. It was like I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. “The killer might only be threatening the people of the palace, but he’s a killer! Are we really going to trust his word?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t know he cared about his people so much. It made me a little breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For now, yes.” The way he spoke, definite and sharp, showed that this conversation was over. He turned to me, and I almost flinched under his strong gaze. I couldn’t think he was anything but a king. “Snow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stood up straighter. “Sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think this has to do with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he think I was the killer? The thought made anxiety stir in my stomach. “I would never-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t mean I think you’re the killer.” I almost sighed in relief, but it didn’t stop my face from burning with embarrassment. Luckily, no one commented on it. “I think this has to do with your prophecy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My prophecy?” I asked. “This is the Great Evil?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so,” the king said. “Two people were killed, and their hearts were cut out. That is evil.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only two people though,” Baz argued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only two?” I asked, turning to him, and just like that, I didn’t like him again. Two was a small number, but those people had lives. They had people that loved them. They hadn’t deserved to die, not like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffed. “You know what I mean, Snow. What happened to them is still a tragedy, but I think two dead people don't qualify for the Great Evil.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two don’t,” the king replied. “But more might. The killer is threatening to kill more people, and he’ll probably cut out their hearts like he did to the previous two victims.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyebrows knit together. “But what does this have to do with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it obvious? You are the Hero of Watford. You are the one said to defeat this Great Evil. That’s why I’m assigning you to guard Baz for the whole day, every day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My mouth dropped open, and so did Baz’s. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The whole day? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wanted to protest, to beg him not to condemn me to this hell, but I kept my mouth shut again. He was a king, and I was a knight. Maybe a famous one, but it still wasn’t my place to criticize his choices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, that didn’t stop Baz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-But father,” he stammered, sounding the least composed I had ever seen him, even when he was staring at the corpse. “The whole day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” the king said. “Well, not at night of course, he needs to sleep, but the rest of the day. Is there a problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t-wouldn’t that be exhausting?” He was really trying, and I almost laughed. “And doesn’t he have training?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guarding you is not hard work, Baz. And he was already trained before he came here, I think he can take a break for a few weeks. You are the crown prince, my heir, and Simon Snow is the best person to keep you alive. Who would rule with you dead?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz opened his mouth to protest again, a strange look on his face, but his father cut him off again. “This is over. Snow, you can go back to the Knight’s Barracks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I frowned. “But I’m supposed to be guarding your son, Your Majesty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take the day off,” he said. “I can get someone else to do it until tomorrow.” A smile spread across his face, one not quite mean but not warm either. “Besides, Baz is staying back with me. We have some things to discuss.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded, turning to leave, but I still didn’t miss the look on Baz’s face. I wasn’t good with emotions, but it was pretty obvious he didn’t want to talk to his father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, I wondered if I would ever understand court. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What do you think the King wants to talk to Baz about?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz talks to his father, and bad news arrives.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>BAZ</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Today had been absolutely horrid. The worst day since I had come home from Aunt Fiona’s to kidnappers and cold fathers. Possibly even the worst day of my short life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. That wasn’t true. The day my mother died was the worst by far, even though I was too young to remember it well. It would always be the worst. This was the second worst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t get the picture of the body out of my mind. The paleness of his skin, the stillness of his hands, the blood splattered all over his shirt and trousers. He hadn’t deserved to die that way, no one did. And now the killer was threatening my home, and everyone who worked here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And my fucking father didn’t want to tell the city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I knew that being king meant making hard decisions, ones that weren’t always morally correct, but this was just plain wrong and foolish. There was a killer in our city, in my city, threatening my people. And my father didn’t want them to know, because he didn’t want people to panic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a killer cutting out people’s hearts! People should be panicking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he assigned Snow to be my bodyguard all day, every day, no matter what I said. That was something neither of us would be happy with. We were on slightly better terms then a few weeks ago, but we still hated each other. Or, he hated me. I was in love with him, and this wasn’t going to help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now my father wanted to talk to me in private. That wasn’t good at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, father?” I asked, trying not to sound too bitter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked ridiculously pleased with himself, sitting on the throne next to Daphne. I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like he did anything important lately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The letter threatened the people of the palace,” he said. “That includes you, Baz. You and me and my wife and Mordelia.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I raised an eyebrow. The thought of my sister dying like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> made my stomach roll, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t already come to that conclusion when I saw the letter. I wasn’t stupid. “Yeah, I know. Why does that matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What matters is that if this is truly the Great Evil, there is a possibility that I could die. That you could die. And if we both die, then where does that leave the kingdom?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t know how to answer that. One of my fancy titles was that I was “next in line for the throne” even though said line didn’t exist. Mordelia couldn’t rule because she was a girl, and Aunt Fiona didn’t have any kids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly,” my father said, satisfied. “It leaves the kingdom without a ruler.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Mordelia?” I asked anyway, even though I knew it was futile. “She’s a princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved his hand. “She’s a girl, and therefore not fit to rule.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bit my tongue, suppressing a snarky response. The rule that said girls couldn’t rule the kingdom was archaic and stupid, but I doubted my father would listen to me now. Or ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you trying to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am saying that you will be getting married.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, everything was still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the full force of those words hit me like a brick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My stomach dropped to my shoes, my eyes widened, and my mouth fell open. No. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” was all I managed to say. “M-Marry? Me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you deaf, Basilton?” my father asked. “Yes. I have found you a suitable wife. I know she isn’t someone you . . . prefer, but I think you and her would make a stunning pair.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t believe this. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be marrying me off like some kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>property</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Who? I’m seventeen, I can’t get married!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still looked so infuriatingly smug. “Yes, you can. There are no laws saying that you can’t. And you will be getting married to Agatha Wellbelove. She’s the daughter of Lord and Lady Wellbelove from up north. They are a respectable family, and she is a respectable girl. Beautiful too. You’ve met her a few times.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I racked her name through my mind, and remembered a blonde girl from a ball a few years ago. This did nothing for my panic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was marrying me off. To a girl. All because he was scared some Great Evil would kill him and me and there wouldn’t be a male heir for the kingdom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then that realization hit me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father,” I said slowly. “Do you-do you want me to have KIDS with her??!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, like he was pleased. “I knew you would catch on sooner or later.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That revelation was so huge, I didn’t have the words for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Me. Impregnating a girl. Impregnating my </span>
  <em>
    <span>wife</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Becoming a father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was too big for me to comprehend, so I just stood there, gaping like a fish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daphne stood up and walked over to me from her throne, smiling softly at me. It was a strange smile, like she was trying to understand what I was feeling but didn’t have the emotional range for it. She put her hand on my shoulder, and I barely stopped myself from flinching away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baz,” she started. Her voice was kind but condescending, and I despised it. “I understand that this is a pretty big surprise for you. But I think you’ll love being a father, and you’ll grow to love Agatha. This isn’t a hard situation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I laughed without humor. “Right. My father deciding that I’m going to get married and have kids at seventeen without my input isn’t a hard situation at all. Thank you so much for your unwanted opinion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baz, respect your stepmother,” my father snapped, and I shut my mouth. “This is happening, whether you like it or not. You had to get married eventually, and not to someone you . . . like. Agatha is already getting ready to travel here, along with your aunt Fiona.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was pretty sure my eyes were bulging out of my head at that point. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had a heart attack from the stress. “What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But the murderer is threatening the people of the palace! This is the worst time to bring them here!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think you are going to the Wellbelove estate to get married?” He laughed, like something was funny. “You are a prince, Baz. You will be getting married here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why Aunt Fiona?” I asked. I understood why Agatha was coming, even if I didn’t like it, but why her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she died, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> . . .</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. I couldn’t even think about that. Then I’d only have Mordelia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She has to attend the wedding, of course!” my father said. “And I also brought her for you. You care about her, she cares about you, I thought it would make you happier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he actually thought that, he didn’t know anything about me, but I already knew that. He did it to bribe me, to make me comply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He must have noticed the anger on my face, because his face hardened. “Baz, I’m sorry, but you don’t have a choice in the matter. You are the crown prince, and you need an heir if the Great Evil gets you. You had to know this was going to happen sooner or later.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the worst part of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I did know this was going to happen. I knew he would marry me off to some pretty noble, I knew I would have to have kids with her sometime. I knew I would have to have an heir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I just thought it would be later. Not when I was eighteen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Normally, I was pretty good at controlling my emotions. It was a honed skill from childhood. Princes were not allowed to have temper tantrums, princes were not allowed to be angry or sad. I became an expert in shoving the negative feelings (and some of the positive) deep down, until I couldn’t reach them anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But I couldn’t do that right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I twirled on my heel and stormed out of the room, shoving the doors open with my shoulder, fists clenched and mouth twisted in fury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any freedom I had was gone. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the posting delay, I got my wisdom teeth out and then it was the holidays. I'm back to my normal schedule now!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz is mad, and Simon wants to know why. For once, Baz tells the truth.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever had happened yesterday, after I left the throne room, must have been bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz was in the worst mood I had ever seen him in, ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had snapped at me, two maids, and his professor. His perpetual sneer had gotten even worse, and his gray eyes were narrowed and full of anger. He almost reminded me of the Mage when he was angry, even though they looked nothing alike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever happened must have been bad. I wondered if his father had anything to do with it, or if it had happened later. I had heard from Penny that the King and Baz didn’t have the best relationship, but he couldn’t have made him that mad, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t know. I had only been in the King’s presence a few times, and hadn’t gotten a good read on him (besides that he was intimidating). I never got a good read on anyone. I was just bad at reading in general, not just reading people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, fathers weren’t supposed to make their children this mad. Right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I followed Baz down the hall, as he strode to the library. His steps were long and quick, and I cursed his few inches on me as I jogged to keep up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved the doors to the library open, his hands balling into fists at his side as he stormed in. He started yanking books off the shelves, ones about the law and the kingdom. Every action of his could only be described in one word: violent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I felt a brief pang of concern for him, and almost stopped in my tracks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Concern?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. It couldn’t be. I hated Baz Pitch. I hated him more then anyone I’d ever met, including the bullies at the orphanage and the uncaring adults there. He was pompous and cruel and unfairly attractive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the feeling I had in my chest could only be described as concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t understand why. Maybe it was how softly he looked at his little sister. Maybe it was because of how he looked when he saw the body, horrified, even though the person wasn’t anywhere near his status in society. Maybe it was how Baz cared about his people, defending their rights to his father. Maybe it was his eyes when I had left the throne room yesterday, resigned and angry and a little bit desperate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was that I thought I saw something deeper in him yesterday. Something like a good heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I ignored the feeling. I knew what it was like to be on the other end of Baz’s wrath, and I didn’t want that today. Or anymore then it had already happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz was tearing through the books like a forest fire, his thin hands tapping on the table with nervous energy. Everyone else had vacated the library, like they had felt his anger from across the room, so all the sound in the room was coming from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prince huffed, slamming the book shut with none of his usual elegance and shoving it across the table, moving onto the next one. And the next one. And the next one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, none of them had what he wanted, because he punched the table and swore like a sailor. It made me flinch. I had never heard him swear before, I had assumed he thought himself too good for it. Apparently not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I desperately wanted to ask what had happened, but I kept quiet. Questions were never a good idea, especially with Baz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz angrily reshelved the books, somehow getting them all in the right spots. He ran a hand through his pitch black hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked the most disheveled I had ever seen him, hair messy, tunic rumpled, eyes crazed. He looked horrible, not like himself at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked . . . good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallowed hard, loud in the silence of the library. He twirled around to look at me, seething. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it enough to ask for you to be quiet?” he asked, voice cold and hard, full of loathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was it. “I’m sorry if my basic human functions make sounds, Baz. What’s got your underclothes in a bunch?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had learned the term from some other knights, and apparently it was lewder than I had made it out to be, because Baz’s face went bright red with anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s got my underclothes-” he started, growling. He threw his hands up into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m being serious,” I said. “Why have you been so mad all day?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That,” Baz said haughtily. “Is none of your concern.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m just a lowly knight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m also your lowly bodyguard. All day, every day, for forever. So I’ll find out anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, he didn’t grace me with an answer, and just glared at me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” I asked, voice softening on instinct. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, this was what made Baz deflate. His face relaxed, mouth untwisting and shoulders curling inward, becoming more helpless then angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, this was so much worse. My concern was growing, even though I still hated him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did I still hate him?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose you do have a point,” he said. “I’m getting married.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” I said, mouth dropping open. Married? “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “I’m getting married.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I heard,” I sputtered. “But-but you’re seventeen!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I said. But father doesn’t care.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz sank back into a chair, defeated. I stood, mouth still open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was getting married. Prince Baz Pitch, was going to be a husband. He was going to have a wife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something inside me soured at the thought. I didn’t want him to get married. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was because I cared about Baz, and he was so obviously upset by this. Yes, that was it. I was concerned for him, just like earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Understanding my feelings was getting easier. That was a relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sat down next to him. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s afraid that the murderer is the Great Evil,” Baz said. “He thinks that if he dies and I die, there won’t be anyone to rule the kingdom.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why does he want you married then, if he wants more heirs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because he wants me to have kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone was nonchalant, but his words were not. I was pretty sure my jaw was on the floor at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kids?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz as a father was another thing I couldn’t imagine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But y-you're s-so young!” I exclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded miserably, not even commenting on my stutter. “I know. I’ve been trying to find something in kingdom law, something that would get me out of the engagement, but there’s nothing. I don’t even want to get married or have kids, not now at least, but father disagrees. He didn’t even give me a say in the matter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. “That’s shitty of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz’s head snapped up at my words, but there was no anger in his eyes. He almost looked amused. Like he thought I was funny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could get jailed for treason for saying that,” he said, but there was no hostility in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you don’t tell, I’ll be fine,” I replied. “Besides, who’s going to jail the Hero of Watford?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Baz </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He honest-to-God laughed. It was deep and joyful, and it made me smile a little. He really should laugh more. It sounded nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So who are you engaged to?” The words made my stomach roll a little. I really was more empathetic than I thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agatha Wellbelove,” Baz answered. “She’s the daughter of Lord Wellbelove. They live north of here. She’s nice enough, and apparently pretty. She’s coming to the palace soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyebrows knit together. “But isn’t the murderer threatening the people of the palace? That’ll be dangerous for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father doesn’t care. I guess he wants to keep up appearances. He’s also bringing my aunt Fiona, my mother’s sister. He’s putting them both in danger, but he doesn’t care.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just for the sake of keeping up appearances?” I had heard how courts and kings could be corrupt, had read about it and heard rumors about it, but I had really hoped Baz’s father was better. I guess I was wrong. No surprise there.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he said. “I think he’s relying on you to protect them. And me. And the whole city, I suppose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” I swore immediately, surprising myself. “I can’t say the whole city, but I’ll make sure you and Ms. Wellbelove and your aunt are safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And I meant it. I tried to only say things that I meant, tried to be honest and true at all times, to make sure I had the right to the Hero of Watford title. But sometimes I had to lie, or at least not be fully true, especially after I got here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But I truly meant this. I truly wanted to keep them safe.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz looked up, meeting my eyes with that steely gaze. “Thanks, Snow.” He didn’t smile, but he sounded genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze was overwhelming me, but I couldn’t find it in me to look away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I guess I didn’t hate him anymore. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Stream drivers license by Olivia Rodrigo for clear skin</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Agatha and Fiona arrive in Watford.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>BAZ</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m still not sure what prompted me to spill my guts to Simon Snow, but it had to have been a good instinct. Or a bad one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he had been so nice about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had never assumed that he would be anything less than nice about my predicament. He was annoyingly kind about everything, so sickeningly good. There was no universe that he would have laughed at me, or told me he didn’t care. There was no universe in which he would be anything less than a hero. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it had still been a shock. And it had been ridiculously attractive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t anyone else I could talk to about this anyway. Father and Daphne were automatically out of the question, Mordelia was too young and innocent, I didn’t want to worry her or make her sad. Dev and Niall were friends of mine, but not close enough for me to feel comfortable talking to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I suppose I could have sent Aunt Fiona a letter. But by the time the letter would have gotten to her, she would be just leaving for Watford, so that would have been a waste of time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hadn’t even thought of Snow until he forced me to tell him. But it had actually worked out. He had listened, and agreed wholeheartedly with me, and made me laugh. He had just been so </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had done nothing to erase my feelings for him. That had made them increase, shoot upward like a firework. I loved it, and I hated it. I loved Snow and I hated him. I couldn’t get enough of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been easier when we hated each other. We didn’t talk, just stewed in silence. I didn’t have to hear his unfairly deep voice, and he didn’t have to hear mine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now we were . . . something. Something that wasn’t quite enemies, but wasn’t quite friends. We talked when he was guarding me, sometimes. He would crack a stupid joke, and I would laugh. When he stood by me during lessons, he would relax a little bit. Just a little. Like he trusted me more, or something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had been trying to name what we were for the past week. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Acquaintances?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, that’s not right. Rivals? No, not that one either. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baz,” my father said, voice sharp and hard, and I snapped to attention. “Pay attention. You are about to meet your future wife, and you should look like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I repressed an eye roll, and stood up straighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the news got out that their precious prince was going to get married, the kingdom had rejoiced, Watford the most. Well, mostly rejoiced. Dev had told me most of the women of the city mourned their chances to marry me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had almost laughed at that. Father would never allow me to marry a commoner, and I wouldn’t be marrying a woman if I had the choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because of the reaction, Father had decided to throw a parade for Agatha and Aunt Fiona’s arrival into the city. Most of the people who lived here were out on the streets, eagerly awaiting to get a look at their new favorite couple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sat with my family in our best carriage, next to the gates of the city. Snow stood next to our carriage, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. We were waiting for the delegation to get here, so we could follow them up to the palace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I desperately wished I could be anywhere other than here.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, there they come!” Mordelia squealed, sounding terribly excited. She jumped up and down in her seat and pointed, before Daphne whispered something into her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, she was right. The gates were opening, and the delegation was coming through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first and second carriage through the gates was the Wellbelove’s. I could tell because of their family symbol on the side of their carriage, a rose. Their horses were snow white, not a speck of dirt on them, and two guards were riding them. They were too pretty to be guards, probably just models or something to make their family look good. The actual guards walked next to the carriage.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I craned my eyes to spot the girl I was going to have to marry, but I couldn’t spot her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd roared, and my father smiled. I clenched my fists in my lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third carriage through the gates was definitely my aunt’s. It had the symbol of the Pitch family on it, a circle of brambles and thorns, as sharp as my aunt’s personality. The carriage was fairly simple, no ornate decorations, but it was obvious that it was of quality make. Definitely Aunt Fiona. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made my heart rate slow down. Although I wished that she wasn’t here, where the killer could get her, I was looking forward to being able to spend time with her. She didn’t like my father either, so we could talk about him together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wondered if she would like Snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Our carriage followed my aunt’s, and soon enough, we were riding through the streets of my city. It all was horribly familiar to last month, when the Numpties attacked me. To when I fell into Snow’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook the thought out of my head, turning my head to look out of the window of the carriage. The citizens went crazy at the sight of my face, jumping up and down and cheering. Most of them were women, but I did see some men and boys. Probably there for Agatha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I plastered the fakest looking smile on my face that I could muster as I waved to them. Just because I had to go through with this didn’t mean I would do it well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We were about halfway to the palace, my cheeks throbbing from the smile, when I caught Snow’s eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was honestly surprised that it didn’t happen sooner. He was walking right next to the carriage. Even though he was on bodyguard duty, he was waving and smiling at my people. Some of them had probably come for him too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike mine, his smile was genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your smile looks fake,” he muttered to me. I didn’t know he could mutter, or say anything quietly. He wasn’t the quiet sort of person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” I said through my bared teeth. Luckily, our carriage was big enough that my family wouldn’t hear me, and they were too busy waving at our subjects anyway. “I’m hoping it will make my father mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow snorted a little, an adorable sound. “Has he always been like this? The king, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like . . . how he makes your choices for you. If that’s okay to ask.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” I said. “And I guess so. I don’t think he trusts me with my own future. What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face scrunched up. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The guy who raised and trained you. The wizard. Did he make choices for you?” I wasn’t quite sure why I was asking. No, I knew why. I just didn’t know why I was asking when I knew that it wouldn’t be good for my ever growing feelings.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Mage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow shook his head. “No. I mean, he did make choices for me, sometimes. But it was always for my own good. And it was because of the prophecy. It was my destiny.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounded convinced, even though his argument was flimsy as paper. I didn’t argue. That wouldn’t end well for either of us. Besides, it was none of my business anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After an eternity and also not enough time, we reached the palace. The crowds followed us to the gates, pressing against it eagerly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plan was for me and Agatha to enter the palace through two different entrances, and use two different routes to get to the balcony that oversaw the city. After that, it would be up to us. That was a surprise. I didn’t know Father would trust me with anything in this goddamn situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stepped out of the carriage, breathing deeply. My heart was pounding against my ribcage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, son,” my father said, getting out of the carriage. “Before you go, I wanted to give you this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He handed me a box. A ring box. I opened it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ring inside was definitely nice. It was a diamond ring, shiny and crystal clear and beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled at me, proudly but not warmly. “How you’ll propose to Agatha. It’s one of the royal jewels.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I swallowed hard, slipping it into my pocket. “Okay father.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because I couldn’t stand to say another word to him, I turned around and started walking up the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To my future wife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To the girl I could never, ever love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could barely recognize Snow walking just behind me. He wasn’t saying anything, and I hoped he couldn’t tell how nervous I was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, I reached the top of the stairs. Across from me were the other set of stairs, where Agatha was coming from. I could hear the click of her heels on the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she came into view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My father had been right. Objectively, Agatha Wellbelove was beautiful. She had blonde hair that tumbled down her shoulders in waves, and warm brown eyes. Her face was round, her cheekbones sharp (but not too sharp), her hands dainty. She was skinny, but I could tell that she had curves from under her pink dress (not that I was looking for them, but I do have eyes). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We locked eyes, and she smiled kindly at me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was perfect. No wonder my father had chosen her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If I had liked girls, we would have been a good couple, at least aesthetically wise. But I did not like girls, so we would not make a good couple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prince Baz,” she said, curtseying deeply. Even her voice was perfect, high and sweet. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The pleasure is all mine,” I replied, bowing. “Shall we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I offered her my arm, and she took it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, we walked out onto the balcony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the crowd saw us, they roared, louder than anything I had ever heard. Of course they did. The prince and his beautiful betrothed, so in love. I could have scoffed at the thought, if it wouldn’t get me into hot water later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We both waved pleasantly, and she giggled. I couldn’t tell if it was fake or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I knew it was time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I dropped to my knees on the balcony, looking up into her eyes as I slid the ring box from my pocket. She gasped softly, bringing a hand to her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agatha Wellbelove,” I started, and everything went quiet. The words were thick in my mouth, in the way words had never been before. I was going to do it. I was going to ask her to marry me. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “Yes. Always yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if I thought the crowd was loud before, I did not know what was coming. They screeched and cheered at the top of their lungs as I put the ring on her slim finger. Luckily, it fit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t feel lucky though. Or stressed, or nervous. I just kind of felt . . . numb.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, she grabbed my hand, and we walked off the balcony together. The numbness followed me all the way down, like a slow acceptance of my fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I knew I would marry a woman. I knew I would never get to marry someone I liked. But it felt different when I was in the process of destroying any chance of happiness I could ever have. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Our parents were waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, and Aunt Fiona. Agatha’s mother’s eyes were shining with tears, and her father was smiling gruffly. Aunt Fiona was smiling, but anyone with eyes could tell it was fake. Daphne and Mordelia were smiling at me, and so was father. I took no pleasure in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only one who wasn’t smiling was Snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My baby girl’s getting married!” Agatha’s mother cried, and hugged her daughter tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be such a good husband, Baz,” my sister said eagerly, and I tried to smile for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was when somebody screamed. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hahahaha &gt;:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Simon finds the source of the scream.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for descriptions of blood and gore, and some self-hating thoughts.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>The scream startled me. </p><p>It shouldn’t have. I was on duty, for god’s sake. I was supposed to be on alert, to protect Baz and his betrothed from any dangers. I was on the job. </p><p>But I was busy thinking about the people I was supposed to be protecting. It was foolish, but Baz had looked . . . sad. He had looked sad and hollow and so resigned. And for some reason, it made me feel sad too. </p><p>He was a prick, that was for sure. But he could be funny sometimes, and we were kind of friends now, and he wasn’t all bad. He was a good violinist, and a great older brother. And he didn’t deserve to have to marry someone he didn't love, no matter how pretty or kind she was. </p><p>But I still should have been paying attention. </p><p>The scream was loud, high-pitched and full of sheer terror before being abruptly cut off. That could only mean one thing. </p><p>It had to be the killer. It just had to be. He had threatened the people of the palace, and besides increasing security, we had done nothing. The King had done nothing. </p><p>I could see the color drain from young Princess Mordelia’s face before I took off in the scream’s direction. </p><p>My armor rattled as I ran, and I slid my sword from its sheath. I needed to get there in time. I was already too late as it was. </p><p>How did he get in?</p><p>I ran around a corner, almost falling over from the momentum of it, and that’s when I spotted them.</p><p>The victim was a maid, her hair still in it’s tight bun, her cheeks still soft with baby fat. Her eyes were empty, but I could still see the fear and pain on her facial expression, from when she was still alive. Minutes ago. Maybe seconds. </p><p>There was a hole in her chest, just like the merchant’s. </p><p>The blood from where her heart was supposed to be was splattered all over her skirts. I suppressed a gag.  </p><p>I was too late. </p><p>I was too late to save her. </p><p>My eyes locked on to the other figure in the corridor. </p><p>The man was wearing a cloak, blacker than the ocean at night. The hood was pulled over his face, so I couldn’t see his features. The only thing I could see was his hand, hovering over the maid’s chest, holding something red in his hand that he should not have been holding. </p><p>Her heart. He was holding her heart, because he had cut it out.</p><p>He turned and he noticed me. For a moment, we just stood there, staring at each other. </p><p>And then the killer ran. </p><p>“Hey!” I shouted, running after him. It was the only thing I could think of to say. He had just killed someone, had cut out her heart. There were no words big enough to contain that truth. “Stop!”</p><p>He did not stop. </p><p>His cloak billowed around him as he ran, surprisingly fast. He seemed to know his way through the castle, darting through the halls. We didn’t run into anyone, which was no surprise. Everyone was at the parade, or getting ready for tonight’s feast, or getting ready for the Wellbeloves. </p><p>He had picked a good time to attack. </p><p>Maybe he could be the Great Evil, the one I was destined to destroy. I wasn’t good at feelings, but I felt like if this was the Great Evil, I would not slay him now. This moment wasn’t great enough for some prophet to make a prophecy about. </p><p>I wished it was. Then I could catch him. I could stop him. </p><p>Finally, I caught up with him, bringing my sword down against his shoulder. He dove out of the way, rolling. It was surprisingly graceful. It reminded me a little of Baz. </p><p>My heart pounded a message of justice against my ribcage, everything stilling like they did in battle. I had almost missed this, this place where I belonged in, where I felt right in a way no one could take from me. </p><p>I lunged forward again, swinging twice, three times. He dodged each one by the skin of his teeth, with the practiced movements of someone who had done this before. He didn’t pull out a weapon, for some reason. </p><p>He was moving backwards. Toward the wall. If I could pin him-</p><p>My sword finally caught on something, the fabric from his cloak. It slowed me down by just a second.  </p><p>
  <em> No. </em>
</p><p>I could feel the smugness radiating off of him in waves as he stepped up to one of the window ledges. </p><p>“No!” I yelled, as he fell backwards. I jumped forward, slicing something definitely flesh and blood before he crashed through the glass. </p><p>I dropped my sword, running to the window and leaning over the ledge. </p><p>The killer landed, impossibly light on his feet from how high up they were. He ran. I could probably survive the jump without any broken limbs, but I would never be able to catch him. </p><p>I clenched my hands into fists, resisting the urge to punch the wall. He got away. He got away. </p><p>What good was I as a bodyguard, as a knight, if I couldn’t catch one killer? What good was I as the Hero of Watford?</p><p>I bent down and picked up my sword. It was stained with his blood, just as red as the maid’s. I slammed it back into its sheath with a growl.</p><p>The cloth that I cut from his cloak lay on the marble. I picked that up too. Maybe it could help, like I couldn't.   </p><p>Finally, some other knights arrived, Penny included. Her brown skin was tinted green.  The King, Fiona Pitch, and Baz came behind them. They all looked out of breath. I guess we did run a long way. I hadn’t noticed. </p><p>Even panting and just engaged, Baz looked completely put together. The only thing that could possibly betray that was the paleness of his skin. For some reason, this infuriated me. </p><p>“What happened?” the King asked. </p><p>“The killer was here,” I said, trying to keep the emotion from my voice. “He killed that maid. I followed him out here, and we fought, but he jumped through the window and ran before I could catch him.”</p><p>“Jumped through the window?” Fiona asked. Her voice was a little raspy, and she glanced at the broken glass with sharp eyes. She looked a lot like Baz, a closer resemblance then his to his father. “But we’re on the second floor.” </p><p>I nodded, and reached out with the hand holding the cloth. I wasn’t sure who I was handing it to, but whoever needed it would just take it. “I got this off him. It’s part of his cloak.” </p><p>One of the knights took it, examining it. “It’s dark.”</p><p>“Yeah, genius,” one of the other ones muttered. He elbowed him. </p><p>Penny looked at me, eyes wide and worried. I looked away from her. </p><p>Maybe if I had been faster, more alert, more observant-</p><p>“I’ll need another bodyguard for the rest of the day,” Baz said nonchalantly. </p><p>My head snapped toward him. So did the king’s. </p><p>“What?” he asked. He flicked his hand at the knights, and they all stood up straight and left immediately. Penny tossed me another worried glance before leaving with them.   </p><p>“I’ll need another bodyguard for the rest of the day,” he repeated. “Do you see Snow? He just fought the Great Evil. He’ll be no good for the rest of the day.” </p><p>Baz sounded bored, maybe a little annoyed, but I could tell he wasn’t. This was just something he wouldn’t do, unless he wanted to get rid of me. </p><p>No. He didn’t want that. At least, I didn’t think he did. We were friends. I was the only one who knew he wasn’t in love with Agatha. He wasn’t trying to get rid of me. </p><p>So what was he doing?</p><p>The king stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You make a good point, son. Snow, you have the rest of the day off. Get some rest.” </p><p>I nodded automatically. The king turned away, talking with Fiona about something. Baz paused, catching my eye for a second before following them. </p><p>The message in his eye was clear. <em> You’re welcome. </em>Even I could see it. </p><p>The only reason I would thank him was if he did this for me. </p><p>Did he do this for me?</p><p>That question was too complicated for me to think about right now. I turned, going in the direction Penny had gone in. </p><p>Maybe I could get in some training before sleeping.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the late update, folks! I have no excuse, I just forgot.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz and Agatha have dinner together.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>BAZ</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The killer had struck again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hadn’t properly seen the body this time, just the blood splattered across the bottom of the victim’s skirts. It had been stark against the black, and enough to make bile rise up in the back of my throat at the time. I had been glad Mordelia hadn’t been there, or Agatha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The people of the palace were still in mourning. They were calling him the Hearts Killer, whispering for justice and vengeance. Whispering about how he might be the Great Evil, about the Hero of Watford, about Simon Snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some said that he would save them from the Hearts Killer, that he would strike him down. Some said he would fail, like he had failed that maid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whenever I heard those whispers, I had to keep myself from doing something I would regret. The staff already didn’t like me, and I didn’t want to give them any more reasons too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because I had seen Snow after the fight. I had seen how pale his normally tan skin was, the tension in his strong hands, the haunted look in his blue eyes. I had seen him for the past few days, quieter than normal and a little skittish. He hadn’t laughed as much at my dry jokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blamed himself for her death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I knew Snow wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but I had been surprised he was that stupid. The only way we knew about what had happened was because she had screamed, and he had taken off immediately after that, faster than I thought a human could move. He had done all he could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He obviously didn’t think so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hoped the day off did him some good, although I doubted it did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I frowned. I needed to not be thinking about Snow. I was about to have dinner with Agatha, the girl I was going to marry and have kids with. There was no time for the boy I was in love with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My heart disagreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I just stand out here?” Snow asked. He fiddled with his armor, glancing down the hall. “Next to the door?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” I said. “Unless you want to hear my conversation with my betrothed.” I winced at the word. He was the only person I could do that around, and I revelled in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a face. “I really don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I quickly checked the buttons on my coat. There was no point to it. I knew I looked perfect, flawless. Every inch the perfect prince. Something I was not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t want to talk to Agatha Wellbelove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t want to marry her. I didn’t want to have kids with her, or rule with her, or grow old with her. I wanted those things with Simon Snow, which he could never know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Snow said. His jawline looked particularly sharp in the low light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll need it,” I replied dryly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I reached out and opened the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dining hall was beautifully decorated, all flickering candles and floors so clean they shined. The table was piled high with delicious food, rose petals strewn across the pristine white table cloth. It looked perfect, made for a couple in love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But we were not a couple in love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I felt a brief pang of guilt, that so much effort went into this. Something I couldn’t even appreciate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sat down at one of the chairs, took a deep breath, and waited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take long for Agatha to get there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She entered the room a few minutes after me. Her hair was in some complicated braid hairstyle, and her dress was a modest blue this time. She looked gorgeous, in a detached, objective sort of way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her ring glinted in the light. It made me want to throw up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening,” she said cordially. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agatha sat in her seat across from me, her back straight, hands folded in her lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you are enjoying Watford,” I said, trying not to sound cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, smiling softly. “I am. It’s a beautiful city, it’s a shame I have not visited very often before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will have to show you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose you do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when the maids came in, emerging from nowhere like ants from the woodwork. They silently cut our steak, poured our wine, and then disappeared. Gone before they even arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Watford different from the North?” I asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, very.” She seemed to brighten at the mention of her home. “Watford is bigger than my city, and the architecture is different. It’s much warmer here too, much sunnier. I think I’m already starting to tan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of the nobles here don’t like tanning. They prefer to be pale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ve had enough of paleness. Something new will be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smiled a little, sipping my wine. Agatha was nice. That made this so much worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had to be honest with her. If not now, then later. It was so strange to be thinking of honesty, something the court barely thought of. Something I barely thought of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was when I didn’t think of Snow. Snow, so good and unflinchingly honest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I owed this to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, Agatha,” I started. I put down my glass. “I don’t love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe that was a little too honest. But it was the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” she asked. She sounded like she was in shock. Agatha looked it to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t love you,” I repeated. “My father wanted me to marry because he wanted an heir. I never wanted to. If it was my choice, you wouldn’t be here. I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes were wide, her mouth open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not a sigh of sadness, or of heartbreak. It was a sigh of . . . relief? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Agatha’s face broke into a wide grin, and now that I had seen that, I realized how fake her other smiles were. She laughed, joyful and relieved. “Oh, thank god.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t love you either,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t want to be here either. My parents wanted me to marry too, and it wasn’t like we could refuse an offer from the king. Oh, I am so glad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was better than I could have ever hoped for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s great,” I said. The sheer relief I was feeling couldn’t have been put into words. Agatha didn’t expect love from me. She didn’t want to get married either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like a giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope we can still be friends, since we have to get married,” Agatha said. “Court can be strange, so it’s good to have an ally.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She twirled her fork in her hand, stabbing it into her steak. It was unladylike, and I loved it. “So, Prince Baz, what do you like to do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like to read,” I said. “Fiction and nonfiction. And I play violin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes brightened. “I play piano. I’ve never touched a violin, but it’s a beautiful instrument. What’s your favorite book?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a loaded question. “I really liked Beowulf. It was beautifully written.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beowulf is beautiful. I especially liked the third battle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the best one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, definitely.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled at me, and surprising myself, I smiled back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over dinner, we discussed literature, music, philosophy. Our steak and wine were almost abandoned because of it. Agatha was very well-educated, and had a lot of interesting and well-thought opinions on a lot of intellectual subjects. She probably didn’t get to talk about them very often, which was showing in how excited she was to talk about it. It was more of a discussion then dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was good. At least I liked her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you heard of that little invention called the printing press?” she asked. “I read a paper on it earlier this year.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded. “Yes, I have. It sounds quite interesting. It’s a good way to teach the masses how to read. I’d like to see one in action.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agatha looked like she was about to say something, but then half of her face darkened. Not emotionally, but literally. The right half of her face was thrown into shadow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked to my right. “Did one of the candles go out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose so,” I said. I took a good look out the window for the first time in hours. It was pitch black out there, the only light from the moon and the stars. The candle had burnt out, and the other candles were close to meeting that fate. “God, it’s so late.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know we were talking so long.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither did I.” I stood up, walking across the table to help her up. Some instincts never left, even when I knew she didn’t want to marry me either. “We should probably be off to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope this won’t be too much of a mess for the servants to clean,” Agatha said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, we walked out of the room. Snow, somehow still awake after all that time, snapped to attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner was enjoyable, Agatha,” I said genuinely. I could feel Snow looking at her. “Are you sure you can find your way back to your room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can. Thank you for the discussion. It was riveting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a small curtsy, she was off, walking down the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you have a good time?” Snow asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded. It was surprising, but I had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t want to marry me either,” I said. “Agatha had to agree, because you can’t refuse a request from the king. We’ve agreed to be just friends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good,” he said, but there was something strange in his voice. He didn’t sound so . . . Simon Snow as he usually did. Almost like he was unhappy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably thinking about that maid again. I hoped he didn’t blame himself for too long. Him being sad made me sad, which I hated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lets go,” I said. “It’s late, and if you don’t sleep, you’ll get all irritated and hungry in the morning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I strode down the hall, and he followed, like always. It was a little comforting. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Was the printing press invented in medieval times? No. Do I care? Also no.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Simon and Baz go to a night market.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>SIMON</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz was getting along with Agatha. That wasn’t what I had expected. Although almost nothing went as I expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I really should stop expecting things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had become unlikely friends. I had overheard most of their conversations, over breakfast with the royal family or walking through the gardens in the afternoon. They were about books, science, philosophy. I could barely understand anything they were saying or talking about, even with The Mage’s education.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know why it made me feel so horrible. Maybe it was because I couldn’t understand them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t blame Baz for liking her though. She was beautiful, smart, kind. She seemed like a good friend. He had been in a better mood since they had dinner with each other for the first time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he was falling in love with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, that made me feel worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Currently he wasn’t with her. Even engaged princes had their studies, and Baz looked like he wanted to throw the book he was reading into the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” I asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shut the book with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span>, glaring at it. “This book keeps talking about what’s best for the people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyebrows furrowed. “Why is that bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The person who wrote this was the advisor to my great-grandfather,” Baz said. “I’m pretty sure he never actually interacted with the people in any way that mattered. I’ve barely been outside the palace, and I know better than this fool does. I just don’t understand how we’re supposed to be good rulers if all our sources are useless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whenever he talked about his people, it made me feel . . . something. I would never expect him to care so much about them. But he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prince Baz Pitch was full of contradictions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is bad,” I said. My eyes widened as an idea popped into my head. “So you want to get to know the people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I have an idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You? An idea?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. The insult didn’t have any bite to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piss off,” I said. “What if we sneak out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sneak out?” He sounded so shocked by the idea, it was a little funny. “Of the palace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. To talk to the people. See their opinions, and how they live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz leaned back in his chair, his stormy eyes thoughtful. I didn’t think that he would be so surprised by the idea. I had thought princes snuck out all the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we were to sneak out,” Baz started. “How would we do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know a secret way out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>know a secret way out? You?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, sort of,” I admitted. “Penny showed me, and Shepard showed her. He’s the one who found it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Shepard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The court jester. From Omaha?” I still didn’t know where Omaha was, but that’s how everyone referred to Shepard. He was quite a person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the point,” I said. “Do you want to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I suddenly felt shy. Weird. I had never felt shy around Baz before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a short silence, Baz stood up from his chair and walked into his closet. He walked out in a cloak, and tossed one to me. “You know, I would never expect you to offer to sneak out of the palace with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I said the thing that felt the most honest at the moment, putting on the cloak. It smelled like cologne and what night felt like. “I didn’t either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We left the library, and he followed me down the stairs. It was weird to have him following me, instead of me following him like always. It didn’t feel good, or vindictive or anything. It was just different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what is this secret way out?” Baz asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glanced from side to side as we kept going downstairs. The secret way out was deep inside the palace, and I didn’t want to get caught. Someone had been caught stealing from the palace’s stores of ingredients or something, so the knights had been on high alert. Luckily, it was late enough that the only people in the halls were the maids, and they weren’t snitches. “It’s a tunnel. Opens up behind a house in the city. Penny says that it was made during a civil war or a coup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you always believe what Bunce says?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Bunce?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted, like something was funny. “Nice joke. You’re getting better at those.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turned around. “What joke?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Bunce,” Baz repeated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t a joke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re serious?” He didn’t give me any time to answer, which struck me as very Baz-like. “Penelope. Her last name is Bunce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Penny?” I asked incredulously. “I didn’t know she had a last name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone has a last name.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not some of the orphans at my orphanage.” That was when we got to the tunnel. It was disguised behind a door that looked like every other door in the palace, if not a little blander. A sign hung on it saying “construction.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were raised by some wizard. The Mage.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered. I hadn’t thought he would remember. “I was, but I was in an orphanage until I was ten. That’s when he adopted me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I opened the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first glance, it looked like a regular, dusty room. Normal people usually didn’t notice the raised rug in the corner. But Shepard wasn’t a normal person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting,” Baz said when I opened the trapdoor. “I can’t believe I never knew this was here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you have used it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I grabbed a lantern off the wall and lit it, and jumped into the hole. Baz followed, closing the trapdoor after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tunnel was long, long enough that I couldn’t see the end, and dark. My lantern was the only thing lighting the dark, and Baz was so close to me that I could feel his breath against the back of my neck, could feel his arms or chest brush up against my back. It made me shiver a little, even though his breath was warm, and his cloak was soft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This tunnel is long,” he commented dryly. “Can’t they have made it any shorter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, could you make your castle any smaller?” I retorted. I was getting better at what Penny called snapbacks since I had met him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz laughed. It sounded nothing like the laughs I had heard before, haughty and full of self-importance. It was genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even insult me back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever actually been into the city before?” I decided to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have,” he said. “Just places my father chose for me. I’ve been out in Fiona’s city, but she doesn’t let me go too far from her house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re the prince?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Because I’m the prince.” He didn’t sound too happy about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, I saw some moonlight filter through the trapdoor that led to the outside world. I sighed in relief. Something about the thought of staying in that tunnel with Baz for a minute longer made me want to explode. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I snuffed out my lantern, and we climbed out. I surveyed our surroundings, hand on my sword. The tunnel led to a dirty alleyway, with no windows or people or anything. A poorer part of town, even though we weren’t that far from the castle. I could see it’s towers over the rooftops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” I said, walking out onto the road. Baz followed me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never been here before,” he said. “It smells horrible. Is this what it smells like everywhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not everywhere, but probably a lot of places.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should fix that.” Baz looked thoughtful, like he was taking notes in his head. Just one more contradiction. Baz Pitch, considerate. “Now, where are we going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shrugged. I didn’t have much of a plan after getting out of the palace. “I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his lip. “I’m starving. We should get some food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I led him down the street, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the fact that I didn’t have much of a clue of what I was doing either. Baz was getting nicer, but he would definitely tease me about it, which would kind of ruin the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t know when I started thinking of this night as something he could ruin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, we got to something I hadn’t even thought of. Something perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A night market. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stalls were lined up on the street, lanterns hanging from their poles. Colorful fabrics doubled as the roofs for the stalls, and the air smelled like sugar and the cold. People in peasant’s rags filled the streets, chatting and smiling. The whole street looked like something too good to be true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turned to look at Baz, and he was staring at the night market. His eyes were wide, and his expression was one I had never seen on him before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonder. It was wonder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get some food,” he said, after a little while. He didn’t notice me staring at him, and I was glad. “I brought money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. That was good. I completely forgot about money. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We went up to one of the first stalls in the market, which had a green roof. The seller had a wide smile and bright eyes that immediately latched onto us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening,” she said. “What would you guys like? We have ale, bread, and beef stew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll take the beef stew and the ale,” I said. I didn’t have much experience with this, but I definitely had more than Baz. This was the one thing I was better than him at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, smiling even wider. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much is that? Five gold coins?” Baz asked me, staring at a pile of coins in his palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No,” I replied. “It’s less than one. Five gold coins would be . . . a lot more than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he said, eyebrows knitting together. Baz tossed the seller two gold coins anyway, and she handed us two flagons of ale and two bowls of stew, a little wide-eyed. The bowl was warm against my hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz glanced around the road. He was looking for something, but some wonder was still in his eyes. “Is there anywhere we can sit?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, right down here,” I said, gesturing at the ground. There was an empty space between stalls, with a good view of the night market. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wrinkled his nose (which made the warm feeling come back) but he did sit down. I did the same, sitting close enough to him that our shoulders brushed together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sipped my ale, which was warm and sweet. It barely had a kick to it, but I tried not to drink too fast. I didn’t want to feel the effects tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hadn’t done this in a long time, go out and eat and enjoy the night. I never thought I would be doing it with Baz, but life was strange. I figured I should just enjoy it while it lasts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good,” Baz said, a little surprised. He was staring down at the beef stew, spoon still in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, I guess.” I tried it. It was good, richer than I thought it would be and hot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks horrible.” He spooned up a little bit of it, and let it drop back into the bowl. “But it’s good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She wouldn’t be selling it if it was bad,” I said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does she survive if it’s less then one gold coin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shrugged. “I don’t know. She just finds ways, like the rest of us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We continued to eat our stew in silence. Well, we were silent. The city wasn’t, even in the middle of the night, especially during a night market. Someone had started playing music, probably violin or the fiddle, a bright and peppy tune. I saw Baz smile out of the corner of my eye when it started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you done this before?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I choked a little on my ale. “W-What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you done this before,” Baz repeated, raising an eyebrow at me. “Sometimes it looked like you were just as confused as I was. Or maybe that’s just your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I scoffed, but I wasn’t offended. “I’ve gone out before. The Mage wasn’t keeping me in, he brought me into town a couple times. Said I should know the kind of people who I would be saving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz rolled his eyes. “That is not the same. Have you ever gone out without his supervision?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once.” I smiled at the memory. It was one of the best I had. There had been a magician in town, a fake one of course, and I had snuck out of my window to see him. “It was fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More fun than with The Mage.” He didn’t even ask, just assumed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I thought for a second. Was it more fun? Everyone had seemed friendlier, and the town had seemed livelier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was,” I said. “But that wasn’t his fault.” Nothing was his fault. Because of him, I would save Watford. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped his empty bowl on the ground with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clatter</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and stood up. “I’ll take your word for it. I have to say though, is it me you’re trying to convince, or yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words struck me dumb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why would I be trying to convince myself? The Mage was a great man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz had no right to criticize him. He had never even met him! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook the thought out of my head, and stood up to follow him instead. “Where are you going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced back at me, the light glinting off of his gray eyes. “I want to see how peasants dance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He then dove into the crowd with all the confidence of a prince, leaving me to follow him like always. I shuffled my way through the throngs of people until I finally spotted his dark head, nearing the end of the street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I finally unearthed myself from all the people, I saw what he had gone after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baz had found the musicians. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They played in the middle of the street, dancers moving in circles around them. They clapped and spun, girl’s skirts fanning out in rainbows of brown and gray and white. Baz had somehow found his way to the middle, and was talking with one of the musicians. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the song ended, the woman handed his fiddle to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few words with the other musicians, Baz brought the bow to the strings, and began to play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a simple but fast tune, and the dancers reveled in it. I stood to the side, struck dumb again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t know he could play. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t know he could play well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned as he played, a true grin, like how he looked when he was with Princess Mordelia or when he had been looking at the night market. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And somehow, I got swept into the dancing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I should have known how it happened. I was a knight, the Hero of Watford. I should know if it was a girl grabbing my hand or someone bumping me forward into the dancing or if I was possessed somehow. But I didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had never been a good dancer. I could fight five people at once, but I could never manage to successfully complete a waltz, so The Mage gave up on it. But street dancing was much different from waltzing, and I picked it up pretty quick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just moving and twirling. Nothing special about it. But the combination of the ale, the stew, the girls who kept taking my hand to dance, and the lively music made me feel warmer inside than I ever had in my life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I caught Baz’s eye mid-dance, exhausted and laughing, I felt just a little warmer. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>They're idiots your honor.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz has a chat with his favorite aunt.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>BAZ</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I had never known so much fun was possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I had had fun before, of course. I liked to spend time with my little sister, and I liked to talk with Dev and Niall. I liked to discuss philosophy with Aunt Fiona, and now with Agatha. I liked to read and ride my horse and play my violin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But I had never felt anything like I had felt a week ago. It was pure happiness, pure glee. I had never seen anything like the night bazaar, never tasted anything like the beef stew, never gotten the sheer pleasure out of playing music before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wasn’t sure if it was because I just enjoyed it, or if it was because Snow was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t get him out of my head either. I just kept remembering Snow leading me through the tunnels, Snow drinking ale next to me, Snow staring at me over a sea of people. Snow’s smile, illuminated by the light of the lanterns nearby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow, Snow, Snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like my love for him had gotten worse, which was the last thing I needed right now. I was going to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>married</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I was going to have </span>
  <em>
    <span>children.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And while I knew Agatha wasn’t interested in me either, it felt wrong to think about getting married or having children while being in hopeless unrequited love with my bodyguard, who also happened to be the hero of a prophecy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A prophecy that was supposed to be being acted out around me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It probably wasn’t helping that I was staring at Snow right now, but I didn’t have much of a choice. He was able to get out of most of the knight things he would have had to do because he was my bodyguard, but apparently the knight in charge wanted him to help train the knights-in-training. And he had forgotten to say anything until this morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t mind, it would get me out of wedding preparations, but my father was annoyingly paranoid. One of the normal bodyguards just wouldn’t be good enough to guard me. While a different person guarded me, I sat in the gardens, watching a sweaty Snow show sword forms to children in armor and some others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t helping my problem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look troubled,” someone said. The voice was feminine and a little haughty. There was only one person that could be speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I am troubled,” I said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Fiona sat down next to me on the balcony, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder with one slender hand. The other held a glass of wine, which was no surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re always troubled with something,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not when I was staying with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scoffed. “Please. Even when you were with me, you found something to be dissatisfied with. It’s the prince in you. So, what is it now? Is it my wonderful brother-in-law? Maybe your pretty future bride?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would you think it’s either of them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m not a fool,” Aunt Fiona said bluntly. “Malcolm also told me why he engaged you to Miss Wellbelove. Not the nicest reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smiled in spite of myself. “I thought he wanted you to call him the King.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call him the King when pigs fly. So? Talk to your favorite aunt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my only aunt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smacked me upside the head, and I winced. My eyes still didn’t leave Snow. He was a hard person to look away from. Something about him just . . . captivated me. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was in love with him or if it was a hero thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hoped it was a hero thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell you don’t love her, you know,” Aunt Fiona said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it that obvious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. As always, you are a master of concealing your emotions. I’m not sure whether you get that from Malcolm or from your mother. But alas, I am still not a fool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glanced up at my current bodyguard, standing a few feet away from me. He looked like I could slap him across the face and he wouldn’t notice. Good. That meant he wouldn’t hear us either.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m lucky,” I said. “Agatha doesn’t love me either. We’re simply friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed, taking a sip of her wine. “Really? Lucky indeed. You’ll still have to have kids with her though. Malcolm will kill you otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I froze at the mention of having children, but tried to shake it off. That would be in the future. No use worrying about it now. “No, he wouldn’t dare harm a hair on his precious heir’s head. Haven’t you heard? I’m one of a kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s your sister,” she replied, then seemed to check herself. “Wait, Mordelia can’t rule. Never mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never understood that,” I said. “Why can’t women rule?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Fiona shrugged. “I have no idea, Baz. Foolish reasons. Anyways, if your eye isn’t on little Miss Wellbelove, who is it on? Who has the crown prince’s attention?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one,” I tried to say nonchalantly. “My books, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell you’re lying,” Aunt Fiona said in a sing-song voice. “Come on, Basilton. You know there’s been no new gossip recently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I literally just got engaged. There’s a murderer killing people and taking out their hearts that could kill us both.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No new </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span> gossip then. Besides, you two don’t even love each other. It takes all the fun out of it. And nothing to do with the Hearts Killer is fun. There’s been-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A clang interrupted her, the unmistakable sound of metal on metal ringing through the gardens. We both looked towards where the sound came from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Snow. Of course it was Snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was dueling another knight, someone obviously experienced, while the trainees watched eagerly. His sword flashed in the sunlight as the two fought, graceful as a waltz. The other knight wore a full suit of armor, but he was just in a tunic and trousers, which hugged his body as he moved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My breath caught, against my will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow’s face was screwed up in intense concentration as he got the upper hand in the fight, stepping forward once, then twice. His opponent stepped back and went on the defensive, but it was obvious who would win this fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In two smooth movements, Snow disarmed his opponent, sending their sword flying into the grass, then pressed the tip of his sword against their throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trainees clapped, their adoration obvious, even from here. I wasn’t one to judge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was easy to forget that Snow, with his occasional stutter, easy smile, and ignorance of court matters, was powerful. It was easy to forget that he was the hero of a prophecy, the Hero of Watford. It was easy to forget that he was a trained swordsman that could defeat multiple people with ease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing him defeat the other knight was a good reminder. He was stronger then I made him out to be sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Aunt Fiona said. I almost didn’t register it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” I asked, distracted. His opponent took off their helmet, revealing a head of dark curls. Penelope Bunce. She grinned up at Snow and took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. For a moment, I felt terribly jealous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wanted to hold his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Simon Snow,” she replied, sounding wickedly delighted. “You have your eye on the Hero of Watford.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” That broke me out of my stupor, and I turned to look at her. She was smirking, but there was something sympathetic in her eyes. “Snow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Your bodyguard. You have feelings for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not,” I denied. “You’re just seeing things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baz, all I’m seeing is how ridiculously you look at him,” Aunt Fiona said. “It’s like there are hearts in your eyes. It’s so scandalous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. She noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It wasn’t like she would go talking to my father and spilling all my secrets. Still, it meant that </span>
  <em>
    <span>somebody </span>
  </em>
  <span>noticed. That I wasn’t hiding my feelings as well as I thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have bad taste,” she continued. “He is objectively good looking, and I’ve heard he’s nice. The fact that he’s the Hero of Watford probably helps his prospects too. And stop panicking. Like I’ve already said, you’re a master of concealing your emotions. I only know because I know how to look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes I wondered if she was the person who knew me best in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hopeless anyway,” I said, glancing at him again. He was talking to someone else, that goat herd that used to be a knight. Elle? “I’m engaged. And I’ll have to have kids. Besides, I highly doubt he feels the same about me anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ll just have to see.” She stood up, downing the rest of her wine. “Have fun watching your bodyguard. And . . . good luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last part was strangely sentimental, for my aunt. The Hearts Killer was making everyone act differently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She strode away, across the gardens and back into the castle. As if they had planned this in advance, Snow walked toward me, his sword back in it’s sheath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that,” he said. He looked a little weird, like he was thinking hard about something. “I just couldn’t say no. It’s for the children, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded instinctively. “Yes, I understand. It was quality entertainment anyway, you’re a good swordsman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wasn’t sure why I said the last part, and I wished I hadn’t, because a blushing Snow was even prettier than regular Snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-Thanks,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. Again, strange. He usually didn’t get this flustered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong?” I asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no. Well, not really wrong. Just weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really want to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” I said, opting to use Aunt Fiona’s excuse. “Castle gossip is getting boring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widened. “But what about you and Agatha?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not exciting enough, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow still looked confused, but he nodded. “Okay, fine. It’s just something Ebb said to me. I don’t know why she told me. Or where she found it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aha, Ebb. Right. “Well, spit it out. What did she tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said the Hearts Killer was a mage,” Snow said, completely serious. “And that I should be careful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh. He was right. That was something to think about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A mage? Like the person who took you in?” I asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How would she even know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. But she was very solemn about it. And . . . when I was chasing him, after he killed that maid, he leapt from somewhere very high and landed on his feet. It had looked almost impossible. So maybe he is one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wasn’t quite sure what to say. It sounded like nonsense. But Ebb had been working for my family for years, since before I was born. She had sounded like a fearsome knight, when she had been one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she was right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I felt like I should trust her, god knows why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook my head. It had to be nonsense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It probably isn’t true,” I said. “She’s probably just worried about you. I’ve heard that she’s motherly. And some people can leap from incredible heights. It doesn’t mean he’s a mage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow nodded, but he still looked unsure, staring at his shoes. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hypothetically, if he was a mage, what would that mean?” I decided to ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at me, his blue eyes meeting mine. “It would mean we’re in more trouble then we think.”  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It might be a while until the next update, I want to finish writing the fic before uploading anymore chapters. It won't be too long though, so stay tuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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